


And later, Ray will get to muse on the bag of ketchup-flavored potato chips Fraser bought him

by Sossity



Category: due South
Genre: Canada, Fluff, Gen, Groceries, Humor, Post-Canon, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-03
Updated: 2011-09-03
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sossity/pseuds/Sossity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray explains Canada.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And later, Ray will get to muse on the bag of ketchup-flavored potato chips Fraser bought him

"This. This right here? This is Canada." Ray bounced up and down on his heels, gleefully brandishing his find. Other nearby shoppers glanced over curiously.

Fraser shook his head. "You've spent months watching the Northern Lights. You've nearly memorized the constellations. You've travelled hundreds of thousands of kilometers over the vast tundra."

"And that was absolutely amazing, Frase. I ain't saying it wasn't. This is one of those, you know, metaphor things."

"Oh?" Fraser raised his eyebrows and tried to suppress a smile. "Do tell."

"It's _milk_. Inna _bag_." He shook the bag at Fraser. It sloshed.

"So I see."

"No, you _don't_. See, what you have here is a plastic bag full of liquid."

"I believe we've established that, Ray."

"This makes no _sense_! How do you pour it? How do you close it back up? Where do you stick it in the fridge so it doesn't all run out?"

"Well, Ray, I believe you snip off a corner and use a pitcher--"

"And how fast is _that_ gonna start tasting like the inside of the fridge? Huh? Or do you just leave the pitcher on the counter to spoil?"

Fraser opened his mouth several times in a series of unformed rebuttals. "And I suppose it makes more sense to you to keep milk in a cardboard carton?"

Ray's flailing hand landed gently on Fraser's arm. "That's what I'm _saying_! It totally doesn't! What if it leaks, or tips over? And I know the cardboard's waxed or something, but eventually the milk is _going_ to soak through. Either way is completely insane, but you're so used to one and I'm so used to the other that they seem perfectly normal until someone points it out." He brandished the milk again. "This is the goddamned metric system, Fraser. This is curling. This is spelling stuff with a 'u' and saying 'aboot.' This is _Canada_!"

A woman by the egg display burst into spontaneous applause.

Ray threw the bag of milk into the basket and hustled Fraser off with a red face.

"But Ray, what about gallon jugs, or glass bottles? What do _they_ indicate?" Fraser attempted to ask without giggling.

"...Oh, shut up. So what else do we need?"

"Actually, we're just about done." Fraser considered putting the milk back--after all, they had no need for perishables back at their hotel--but he didn't quite have the heart to separate Ray from his treasure. He looked at his watch. "It _is_ getting close to lunchtime, however. Tell me, have you ever had poutine?"

"Nah, what's that?"


End file.
